Ghosts
by Allen the Musician
Summary: Sitting alone General Cross is faced with the ghosts of his past and reflects on the reason why he chooses to stay inebriated so much of the time. When drunk the ghosts are quieter. My attempt to humanize General Cross.


Disclaimer - I do not own D Gray Man

Ghosts

Cross Marian, Exorcist and General for the Black Order, was making every effort to become so drunk that he could no longer feel anything. Now many would argue that the red haired general was incapable of anything as human as emotions and this was an assumption that Cross had done everything in his power to make out to be the truth. He preferred for people to look at him as though he were an irredeemable bastard. It was far better for them to believe that the truth was that he didn't care what happened to anyone except for himself.

But it wasn't.

If it were the truth then he wouldn't be sitting alone in this room, striving to drink himself into oblivion. He hated himself for being the bearer of the news that he had just given to his apprentice. The news that the boy would soon lose himself to the Fourteenth Noah, whose memories were implanted in Allen's mind. He hated having caused the look of horror that had appeared on Allen's face upon learning that the foster father whom he had loved had been the brother of the Fourteenth and could very well have been in on the plan that had essentially ruined his life. The severity of the situation should have been evident, owing to the fact that Cross had actually embraced the young man, but Allen had appeared too shocked already to allow anything else to affect him.

Even his master behaving so unlike his master hadn't registered in the boy's overloaded mind.

Gazing at his empty wine glass for a moment Cross sighed and placed it on the table. He had briefly seen the ghost of the Fourteenth in Allen's stormy gray eyes before the boy had been forcibly removed from the room and it was haunting him still. He had known the young man who had fought against the Millennium Earl and the Noah, had even liked him. Or at least as much as he allowed himself to like anyone. The Musician had been a talented magician, as well as a powerful Noah, and he had chosen to fight against the Earl. To fight for the third side of the war.

The side that was virtually unknown.

This fight had ended in the death of the Musician and Cross had been left to look after the man's older brother. Mana Walker's mind had been completely broken owing to what had happened to his brother and Cross wasn't sure of how much use he would be in the Musician's plan. The Noah had told him that he would return to Mana and that Cross was to watch over the man until that time.

And as a result of having agreed to do so Cross was forced to watch yet another man die. Another man that he had been unable to save and would be forever haunted by. One more ghost to add to those that already haunted him.

Growling low in his throat Cross grabbed the bottle of wine that was closest to him and poured a generous amount into the glass that he had placed on the table. Owing to all of the liquor that he had already imbibed his hand was less than steady and yet the general didn't spill even a drop. Wine was too precious to waste no matter how inebriated he might be. After all he was stuck here at Black Order headquarters and they would only supply him with so much before they began to refuse.

And that was simply unacceptable.

There were so many ghosts of the past that Cross didn't want to deal with and getting drunk was the best way that he knew to chase them off. That was the true reason why he spent most of his time drinking although he would never share this knowledge with another living soul and would deny it even under pain of torture.

"You know," a musical voice seemed to echo in the non existent wind. He was inside for crying out loud and yet it still seemed to carry to every corner of the room. "You really shouldn't drink so much. It's bad for you."

"This is just cruel," Cross growled as he lifted his glass and chugged half of the wine that was held within. This was the ghost that he was haunted by the most and the hardest one to silence. The ghost that he was forced to think about every time that he engaged in battle with a difficult foe.

Maria.

She had been his comrade and more importantly she had been his lover. One of the few people on the planet that he had actually allowed to see the true Cross Marian. The man that he strived to hide behind his mask of indifference. Only she had ever been able to bring that man to the fore front and as such she was the one whose death he lamented the most.

Maria had been an Exorcist and a talented one at that. The two of them had been recruited for the Order at around the same time and the quiet beauty had quickly sought to befriend the red haired youth with the foul temper. She told him once that, aside from fighting Akuma, it was her mission in life to see him smile. He had offered her a roguish grin and said that he would smile for her if she would sleep with him.

That had earned him a slap in the face and in return had earned her his respect.

Maria had been a singer before she joined the ranks of the Exorcists of the Black Order and she was exceedingly talented. And the Innocence that dwelled within her vocal cords only served to increase her natural talent. Her songs evoked a wide range of emotions in whomever listened and she had taken to singing happy songs around Cross merely to force him to feel happiness.

And although he would never have said so, he loved her for it.

When she had died a piece of him had died right along beside her. And then, proving exactly what an irredeemable bastard he truly was, Cross had placed a spell upon her corpse and bound her forever to him. After all her Innocence had been parasitic so with the spell he could control that and use it to help him in his battles. Her skills were useful in battle and had saved his life on countless occasions.

And he hated himself for using it.

So many lost to this war that seemed without end and more blood would be spilled before it ended. Deep in thought and nowhere near drunk enough to make the ghosts go away, Cross absently picked up the large silver revolver that was lying on the table.

Judgment.

Cross absently gazed at the revolver which was his Innocence as he once again raised the wine glass to his lips. He didn't want to recall how many battles he had fought with the revolver that never missed a target; all he wanted was to drink and to forget. Forget how many had been virtually forced to give up their lives for the progression of a war that they hadn't started. The suffering of those involved in this war knew no limits and Cross found himself with a renewed desire to put an end to the fighting before more young lives were consumed by it. Before more children were stolen from their families and denied the future they were meant to have only to be stuck out on a battlefield to face an impossibly strong opponent.

He didn't care, Cross kept reminding himself as he poured yet another glass of wine. He didn't care and yet he couldn't face the current state of the world while he was sober. Oh yea, so much for trying to convince himself that he didn't care.

"Damn it all."

A/N - My little attempt to humanize General Cross. I really think that he cares more than he's willing to admit but once again that's just me. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought.


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